Today's poet

i was geet fed up yesterday, but in the words of the song......

"What A Difference A Day Makes"

What a difference a day makes
Twenty-four little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain

My yesterday was blue, dear
Today I'm a part of you, dear
My lonely nights are through, dear
Since you said you were mine

What a difference a day makes
There's a rainbow before me
Skies above can't be stormy
Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu
What a difference a day made
And the difference is you

What a difference a day makes
There's a rainbow before me
Skies above can't be stormy
Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu
What a difference a day made
And the difference is you

Na night all, see you tomoz....:)

spring thoughts suspended
Wharfedale blanketed in fog
dense, ethereal

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

well Alf.... I would never need asking twice. This is the 1st poem I posted here. And as a 14 year old boy, given this to study for 'O' level English Lit, I would never in a million years have thought that 30+ years on, this poem would still haunt me. My fantasy, is a tad different from Keats' in that instead of clad in armour, it would be mudclaws, bum bag and sweaty synthetics, and collapsing at Sprinkling Tarn, the following would unfold....


Original version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1819

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---

Thanks OW (by jove I needed that:D) I didn't realise it had already been posted. I like the idea of replacing the knight with a fellrunner though. I think I would much prefer an elfin grot to the big end of Pendle Hill :D

A bit of Milton to start the day off, pertinent as my alarm didn't go off this morning (or at least that's my excuse for getting in the office a bit late today :) )

On Time

Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets' pace;
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
About the supreme Throne
Of Him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb,
Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.

John Milton

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Alf

A bit of Milton to start the day off, pertinent as my alarm didn't go off this morning (or at least that's my excuse for getting in the office a bit late today :) )

On Time

Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets' pace;
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
About the supreme Throne
Of Him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb,
Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.

John Milton

---

brilliant alf!!!!!!!! love it! DT likin the haiku too

A spot

In years defaced and lost,
Two sat here, transport-tossed,
Lit by a living love
The wilted world knew nothing of:
Scared momently
By gaingivings,
Then hoping things
That could not be.

Of love and us no trace
Abides upon the place;
The sun and shadows wheel,
Season and season sereward steal;
Foul days and fair
Here, too, prevail,
And gust and gale
As everywhere.

But lonely shepherd souls
Who bask amid these knolls
May catch a faery sound
On sleepy noontides from the ground:
"O not again
Till Earth outwears
Shall love like theirs
Suffuse this glen!"

Thomas Hardy

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

A spot

In years defaced and lost,
Two sat here, transport-tossed,
Lit by a living love
The wilted world knew nothing of:
Scared momently
By gaingivings,
Then hoping things
That could not be.

Of love and us no trace
Abides upon the place;
The sun and shadows wheel,
Season and season sereward steal;
Foul days and fair
Here, too, prevail,
And gust and gale
As everywhere.

But lonely shepherd souls
Who bask amid these knolls
May catch a faery sound
On sleepy noontides from the ground:
"O not again
Till Earth outwears
Shall love like theirs
Suffuse this glen!"

Thomas Hardy

---

Smashing poem that Freckle :D I always forget about Hardy the poet as well as the author. I wonder if he was thinking back to a personal relationship when he wrote that ?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Alf

Smashing poem that Freckle :D I always forget about Hardy the poet as well as the author. I wonder if he was thinking back to a personal relationship when he wrote that ?

---

Mmmmm not sure but i liked the reference to faeries...:)

Badge of Honour.

See my tag,
Badge of honour,
That his ruffian,
Friends look up,
To him,
For they give him,
A fag and slap,
His back,
King of the Teenage,
Tearaways.

By Herakles.

Evening all
Just a thought
Whose read Keep the Aspistra flying? If not it's a gritty story of a poet whose chosen poverty instead of the life that was planned for him. Good film adaptation of it to boot.